Meddlers And Monsters
by MattEldritch
Summary: A man in prison recalls how he lost everything that ever mattered to him, all on account of some mystery solving teens and their mangy mutt.
1. Chapter 1

Today is my birthday. Instead of celebrating it with loved ones, I celebrate it by almost being stabbed to death and recovering in the prison hospital wing. I'm serving a lengthy prison sentence, all on account of some meddling kids and their dammed mangy dog.

While I'm being kept in observation, I suppose I ought to tell you about my life and how this all began. My name is Louis Seymour Phillips, son of Seymour and Amber Phillips. My father, a self described war hero, was the chief of police in town and got away with corruption. He'd shake up juvenile delinquents for cash in exchange for turning a blind eye to drinking, drugs, shoplifting or graffiti. He thought himself as a saintly priest preventing the corruption of youth, but really he has no better than Charles Dickens' Fagin, but more than willing to back stab anyone he wanted to. Who would believe his victims' testimonies of his crimes over his 'spotless' history?

My parents would scream and fight on a recurring basis, making me not be able to complete homework, leading to below average grades and beltings from the old man. For hours and hours I'd roam around town for any excuse not to go home because of the two of them. Sometimes I'd con a free meal from an old lady at a restaurant by saying how I was all alone and starving or head to the drugstore to read one of the horror comics that got banned by idiots who wrung their hands over how comics could corrupt youth, which my father supported. But my all time favourite place to be was at the local movie palace.

The Fifth Avenue Theatre was my paradise, my church and my real home. I had no discriminating tastes and plenty of ways to sneak in, so no matter how highbrow or trashy a film was, I'd be there in the back rows, ducking behind a seat and seeing it all for free. Eventually I was caught by the owner, Eugene Applebaum, one of the kindest men I've ever known. He never turned me in (possibly due to my father's anti-antisemitism that made any interactions between them unpleasant) but insisted I work there to pay off all of the outstanding debt in stolen movies. With him, the old saying was true; if you love your job, you never spend a day at work.

Once word got out that I was working for him, my father demanded that I start paying for room and board, along with food. Mom protested this, but my father slapped her to shut up so that was that. The thing I love about movies is how no matter how scary Dracula, Frankenstein, the Wolfman or King Kong were, there were sick men out there in the world in uniforms and admired by the public while the 'ugly freaks' were the ones to be punished. Applebaum let me see movies for free once I told him about dad, since I was trying to save what little money I earned. Sometimes I could pay for a friend or two of mine to join me (though they proved detestable since they keep constantly chattering during the film), or even a few dates. But after seeing the best of the women of the silver screen like Norma Desmond, Barbara Jean Trenton, Maggie Elliot, Blanche Hudson and Linda Turner, no other woman could compare. On the rare occasion where my date and I would engage in a bit of heavy kissing, I would accidentally moan the wrong names and get a fat lip in response.

Next to the horror movies, the Basil Rathbone Sherlock Holmes movies were the flicks I didn't dare miss. Maybe I liked them since I could see an honest police officer for once. But after seeing the movies, I would go out to the library and check out as many Holmes books as I could. I was disappointed to see how much an idiot Watson became in the films while the real Watson wrote every single account of the duo's adventures. Sometimes in my dreams, I would kick Nigel Bruce off of the screen and take his place, actually providing the great detective someone who could actually match him wit for wit.

As I grew older, I got angrier. I would directly confront my father over his abuse of my mother and I, but he would always find ways to get the upper hand. Mom didn't care enough to object, since she had taken up drinking to get through her marriage. The few friends I had made had since abandoned me due to my longer work hours and sparse social appearances. Fifth Avenue Theatre was hitting on hard times, television was taking our... I mean, Applebaum's business, away from him. Some of the theatre was falling into disrepair, so Applebaum had to close one of the screening rooms until further notice.

More and more, Applebaum wanted to keep changing the theatre. Repairs were one thing, but his ideas were more asinine than the last. He wanted to completely take down the art deco designs and put in something more 'modern' for the unintelligent movie goers who could care less about the theatre. Those smug imbeciles who pay so much money for those stupid roadshows just to feel special to their neighbours don't know anything about film like I did. It felt like our close friendship was coming to an end the more times I fought with him. I couldn't see any lights over the horizon, and began to loose sleep over the stress. But summer proved that my problems would get so much worse.


	2. Chapter 2

It was about early August now, and the layoffs to half the meagre staff came and went. It was now just me, Applebaum, Glen Thompson the projectionist, Kelly Webster the cashier and Ben Barr the custodian. As the assistant manager, I had to do just about everything else while Applebaum held up in his office, trying to hit it big. I heard he was spending his paycheques on lottery tickets, swept up in his own mind to see how bad everything was.

We only had three screens left, younger folks coming here to fool around in almost empty theatres (not that I watched, I just heard them there, I swear) and older folks just coming here due to habit and loyalty. I was too young and too old to be either one of them, Applebaum basically killing my youth, my enjoyment and my loyalty to him. Sometimes I just wanted to leave and never come back to this dreary place. Maybe my father had some good points Applebaum's people that I didn't listen to, since I thought Applebaum had a good head on his shoulders.

Enough was enough. We were all working double shifts with no raises and I couldn't let this slide. I went into his office to give him a piece of my mind. I entered his office that reeked of coffee and cigarettes and saw him on the telephone. Despite all that was going on around him, he was grinning like a moron who traded a twenty dollar bill for twenty five cents because he thought the quarter had more value. I began to speak, only to be shushed by his fat little finger and unacknowledged verbally. I sat in the chair next to his desk and impatiently waited for him to finish. Finally, he put down the phone.

"Just the man I wanted to see" Applebaum said with smile on his face, glasses on his forehead and bits of sweat dipping down between them. "I've got some news to share with you"

I didn't smile or greet him due to his rudeness. I wasn't in a pleasant mood and my decrees needed to be said. Applebaum noticed this and the insincere smile dropped immediately. "Is, uh, everything alright, Lou?"

"No, everything's not alright. You're over working me and paying me less and I'm getting goddamn sick of it. Are you smart enough to know how much money this theatre is losing on a regular basis? Every summer I come back its getting worse and worse and I-"

"If you could please let me talk, Lou, I can explain everything to you!" he told me in an aggressive manner, in order to regain control of the conversation as quick as possible. "Please. I know everything you're saying is true. And I am sorry, but sacrifices must be made. Do you remember how Gladys and I had to move to a smaller apartment since we couldn't afford the rent anymore?"

I certainly didn't. Oblivious to him, I was trying to make sure the proverbial trains ran on time here. What should I care? He's still the cause of our problems, with all the charities he wastes cash on. Probably hoarding a nice little nest egg under the mattress he shares with his ugly wife while I get less money. I prick up my ears to listen to the last of his excuses. He takes a moment to look down. If he was like me when I was a kid, he did this because he felt guilty about hiding something. I ask him about it as bluntly as I can.

"Well, Lou. I have some news about the theatre. Would you care for coffee? It'll be a long discussion about the future" I shake my head no, so he can't delay any further. He gives a sigh and takes a minute of silence to gather his thoughts.

"I've lost so, so much money. Everyone here knows this, right?"

I nod.

"They're all as angry as you, aren't they?"

I nod again, this time reluctantly. None of them are remotely like me. They don't care like I do. They're just idiots who clock in, clock out and watch the idiot box in their spare time. "This is why I want to stop all of this suffering. I hate that I can't give any of you what you deserve to be paid and I hate making you work more than you should. I hate all of this"

This wasn't the typical Applebaum I'm used to. By now, he would try to make light of the situation, not start shedding tears, lips quivering and voice cracking. My father wasn't one for tears, he got real ugly when something upsets him. It feels intrinsically wrong to see my boss be the first man I see ever cry. I try reaching out to his shoulder to give him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, but I roll it back. I'm still focused on why I'm here, after all. I wonder if he noticed me doing that.

"What's wrong?" I ask of him, after he wiped his tears with a tissue. He takes a few deep breaths and wipes the snot of his puffy face. "It's about the theatre, Louie"

My heart skips a beat when I heard his words. It then feels like its burning, like the skipping was just my body clicking on the igniting mechanism connected to my heart valves. Not blood, but lighter fluid and gasoline steadily pumping in and slowly raising the heat and pressure. All I could muster to say was "Go on, then"

"Fifth Avenue Theatre...Is on its last legs, Louie. We're so in the black, we're not going to be able to make it past the next year. I'm going to be closing up shop after that, and maybe someone will be able to buy it from me after that. I just hope it won't be too long until-"

Before I could let him finish that sentence, I swing a left hook and hit Applebaum in the cheek. He fell off of his chair and right onto the floor, looking like he could only see spots, stars and birdies like an old Fleischer cartoon. He looked at me, like the scared child he really was under all that flab, lost for words.

I was even lost for words. I haven't much of a clue why I did this, but my brain just wanted to shut up this little goblin up. How dare this bastard not ever offer to sell me the place I call home!? I could actually save him if I took it from him!

After I he picked himself up, I finally spoke. "How could you do this to me?"

"You?" Applebaum said indignantly. Pointing his stubby finger at me, he asked "How could you do this to me!? Striking me down in my office?"

"Why? I'll tell you why! I alone can give this theatre the honour it deserves! You're digging all of our graves and get to go off scot free once you sell the land beneath our very feet!" Applebaum gave me a quizzical look and continued his sweaty look of desperation. This dullard is practically begging me for a roughing up, Louis thought to himself. "I gave you everything while I worked here! You deserved nothing but I got nothing!"

My screaming seemed to be attracting onlookers and people who were listening through the other sides of walls. Murmurs were getting loud and there was no doubt that they were getting ready to call the cops on me. I went through the door like I was a lightning bolt and got out of the building like a bat out of hell. But I couldn't outrun the cops...


End file.
